A to Z of Sex Drabbles
by Busman's Holiday
Summary: Snapshots into Ste and Brendan's sex life for each letter of the alphabet.


**a/n For anyone that doesn't know, a drabble is a piece of writing 100 words long (usually exactly). With this in mind I wrote a drabble for each letter of the alphabet relating to Stendan having sex. A bit different! Taken as snapshots of their future. Hope you enjoy.**

**A to Z of Sex Drabbles**

**Adam's Apple**

His skin was prickled hot. Velvet and arched. The ridge which jutted a V in his throat, cast its shadow over his neck. It jerked as he swallowed, rolling his head to the opposite side, Brendan's name on his lips. If he opened an eye he'd see his dark head approaching as he licked strips of him.

Then he took his fingers and slid them down over Ste's chin, right to his collar. Every muscle twitched under the touch. His lips dragged in fluid motion over its tremble and finally, tongue lapped over the masculine promise, protruding in his throat.

**Brains**

Ste sulked himself down on the sunbed.

"Look," he said, jabbing with his fingers, "White bits." He hadn't rubbed the sun-cream in properly. Streaky.

Brendan placed his book down, lowering his sunglasses. Ste had picked up his discarded newspaper, looked at the comic first, then the crossword. He was silent for a moment.

"Bren…what's a 'mam-mal'? Says 'ere in the clue."

"A mammal?"

Brendan looked at him. Bronzed, glistening, wet-clung swim-shorts, the faintest smattering of hair on his chest. He could lick ice cream straight from his taut stomach. He might just let ice-lolly juice drip into his pubic hair.

**Cold**

Boiler was on the blink. It wasn't worth bothering about; they were moving in five days.

There was fresh snow on the ground. Ste was wide awake shivering. The warm hairy mass asleep next to him seemed to be oblivious.

Ste snuffled under the covers, spying Brendan's naked form. He smirked, full of mischief. He pressed the tip of his cold nose to Brendan's arse cheek, licked a stripe of saliva across it and blew cold air over it. He licked and blew until Brendan grumbled.

"Freezing little bastard."

Under the covers, a voice. "You can warm me up, Brendan."

**Dirty**

Brendan was over him, on top of him. Claustrophobic and trapping. His lip hovered close, biteable.

"Say it," Brendan said, his words were like a shiver, slow and twisting. It made him ache.

Ste looked away, snorting with giggles. "No. Can't."

"Steven," he said, voice louder like a warning. He turned his head back so they were facing. "I wanna hear you ask."

"Why?" He blushed under the unrelenting intensity.

"Why not?"

"Cos."

"Cos…"

"It's dirty…"

Brendan grew harder at his shyness.

"But if you want it, you hafta ask,"

"I want you to…you know," – pause - "Cum on me."

**Energy**

Brendan was ripped. Pumped. The new gym worked wonders for his motivation. He swanned the slum with his shirt off most days. He had more energy than ever.

Home, fresh with sweat, Ste jumped on him, feeling his guns. Every muscle bulging.

Brendan unlaced his belt. Hungry for sex.

Giving a misplaced yawn, Ste said. "I've just been on the Wii Fit."

"Steven." He peeled off his shirt, toned pale skin and tattoos. His pillar arms gave Ste goosebumps. Knowing this, Brendan wrapped him in them and reached into his pants. "You've always got the appetite for some of this."

**Fingers**

He loved them. Long, slender, twisting. Slicked with lube. He loved one; two more. Maybe a thumbing when things got impatient.

He loved them being a tease, dancing over the mound, trickling over the hole. He loved being played, fingered like the prized piece of an orchestra.

He'd suck them sometimes, a prelude to giving head (he could tease too). Or he'd lick them clean of semen and feel especially naughty being so shameless. Or he'd use his own, slimmer and hairier, to put on a show. Brendan loved that.

Early morning: one of his, plus one of his own.

**Grope**

It was his hand on his arse, at the bar of the club. Boss's rules. It was thriving and no one would notice. Ste grinned at him, asked – "Shouldn't you be working?"

He leaned over the bar to order a drink, a slither of skin exposed under the polo shirt. It was those tight jeans again, the ones that drove Brendan a little crazy.

They ended up against a wall in the office, barely concealed. Ste sucked back a bottle of beer, moving into tongue-fucked kissing when Brendan's hand groped between his legs. He pawed him stiff.

Head thrown back.

**Hunger**

Chips in bed. It was a treat. Well earned.

He'd almost whistled down the road, collecting the anaemically wrapped parcels, delivering them home to that naked scrawny figure. Steven had agreed to a little home moviemaking on the condition Brendan treated them to a chippie tea.

"I'm gonna need it."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm planning on working up a bit of a hunger, in'I?"

The boy rode him, thrashing back his head. The camera made him demanding. Now he laid atop the covers, naked, stomach flat, eating salty chips with his fingers. He licked them. "We gonna watch it then?"

**Ice-Lolly**

"You're not coming anywhere near me with that." Ste saw the grin on Brendan's face as he cornered him into the villa bedroom. Brendan deep throated the ice-lolly, it leaving his mouth with a wet _pop_.

Ste was on the balcony, tripping over his feet. "I mean it. It'll be well freezing."

Brendan said nothing. He ran the tip of the lolly across Ste's nipples. He shuddered. And then he trailed it down his centre, peeling open his swim shorts and tucked it in there. Ste shrieked. Brendan removed it, cocked his head to the side, sunk to his knees.

**Jam**

"Didn't even like – _oh god! _– jam until I met you."

He still didn't eat the stuff very often. But he let Brendan lick him out, spread with strawberry seedless. Sometimes he'd start with sticky kisses, lapping its juice from Ste's belly button, travelling further down. It beat crème brule on the dessert front.

"This is good stuff," Brendan said, licking from balls to his tight hole, tasting sugar and heat. He drew Ste closer by the hips and fucked him languidly with jammy fingers, withdrawing them to suckle and returned them clean, to punish that willing gland inside of him.

**Kink**

A new office desk and a well-loved kink. Since twenty (having got the taste for it) he'd been under it, sucking Brendan off.

The thrill of escaping discovery.

Ste pursed his lips together, rested his chin on Brendan's knee.

"D'you lock the door?"

"No."

"What if someone walks in?"

"I thought that was part of the fun?"

Ste slid his hands over the bulge in Brendan's suit trousers. He wet his lips and Brendan pushed down the top of his head. He unzipped.

"Don't make a mess. I gotta work after."

"Yes, boss."

Brendan groaned, watched Ste take him whole.

**Lonely**

"I got lonely," – was his excuse when Brendan came home late from a shift at the club, walking in and catching him masturbating on the sofa. He looked like he'd been discovered by a teacher, the speed in which he stuffed his cock back into his trackies.

"Just felt a bit – you know – horny." He was blushing. Vulnerable. Brendan skulked forward and pushed him back onto the couch.

"You got a job to finish there, Steven."

Brendan stood back and watched Ste uncase his cock from its clothing. It had already made him wet with pre-cum.

They kept eye-contact throughout.

**Magazine**

They were moving. Boxes everywhere, a life upturned.

"What's this?" Brendan asked, flapping a magazine about. It took him a moment to realise, to focus.

Ste grabbed, mortified. "Oi! Give it!"

Brendan grimaced at each page. It had been under the bed, their bed, all this time. Breasts. And _things_.

"This," he held up a particular page. "You liked this?!"

Ste rolled his eyes. "Well yeah. A long time ago." He sneaked a closer look. "She's quite fit."

Brendan ripped the page out and tore it.

"You find any gay mags under there?" Ste winked. "All on Google now, innit?!"

**Necklace**

Ste crawled up the bed in nothing but Brendan's cross. He glided between Brendan's thighs, his arms hoisting him up. Brendan caught the cross, dangling, between his lips. They'd played the reverse of this game before, years back, when Brendan wore it nestled amongst chest hair. It would dance across Ste's chest as they fucked. It'd made him seem more powerful.

Ste had found it behind some socks, drawn to it.

Brendan skimmed Ste's naked body with his palms. He was smooth and freshly showered. Mischievous. He started kissing Brendan's moustache, mumbling in his ludicrous impression of an Irish accent.

**Occasion**

"You said on a special occasion."

"Hmm. Well remembered.

"It's me birthday."

"Your skills of observation never cease to amaze me, Steven."

"It's a special occasion."

"Maybe next year. Or Christmas. Christmas is good."

"You said that on New Year's. And on Christmas Day!You forget, right, I've seen you dance! I know you can. And they say, don't they, if you can dance then you're good in bed."

"I'm exceptional in bed."

"I know…so that means you can dance."

"Dancing isn't what you're after. You want to put twenties in my pants and rub me in oil."

"So?"

"No."

**Positions**

It had become a game of cat and mouse. Brendan had him bent double, paired hands squeezing the life out of each other and missionary was good and solid and controlling. But Ste had other plans; he was lithe and flexible and tonight he wanted to ride, fuck himself senseless.

Sick of his wriggling, Brendan was quick to vice him tight in his hands and have him on all fours.

Right in front of his hands, his arse, in peached glory. He had the power like this, pummelling straight into him, pounding every drop of cum out of them both.

**Query**

"Am I doing okay? Does it feel nice?"

Ste was unsure, unconfident. Brendan's lumber ached from a strenuous gym session and Ste's offer for a rub down seemed inviting. On a whim, he agreed.

There was something about a body massage he found erotic and once upon a time he'd shared that with Ste and then felt immediately affronted whenever Ste raised it.

"S'good." He mumbled into the pillow. There was a semi building, likely the result of Ste choosing to wear only boxers and concentrating far too much on his known erogenous zones.

"Sure?"

He hummed appreciatively. "Keep going."

**Rimming**

"It's your birthday. You can do whatever you want with me." It happened earlier, over dinner in a fancy restaurant. Steven was brazen. His shirt – Brendan-bought – flapped open almost to the nipples. "Or to me."

His tongue was loose and twisty, alcohol-wet. Brendan lent over breadsticks to whisper. "How about we get you home and you can show me what that mouth of yours has got?"

His hands braced the headboard, knees either side of Ste's face. He was unfazed, blindly lapping as much of Brendan's hole as he could guide to him.

**Spanking**

Ste scrunched up his nose.

"S'abit kinky innit?" He laughed, screeching in Brendan's ear. "You can do it again though, it's nice."

They were on the sofa, Ste sat astride his lap in nothing but a polo shirt and skin buzzing pink with beer. He was getting smart on Brendan's account. And Ste liked teasing. And he liked the feel of their cocks grinding together and the heat from a little spanking.

Brendan liked its soft wobble, its squeezable warmth, the way he bounced a bit to get more friction. He liked the claim he had on it. On him.

**Top**

Brendan had caught him, sweaty and grubby from DIY in the garden. He had his shirt off swigging lager like a council rat builder. He tried distracting him from his embarrassing attempts at woodwork.

"I've got a saw in me hand."

"And I got one in my pants."

"Shurrup."

"How about you take a tea break? Come'nd fuck me."

Ste stopped. "Seriously?" He grinned. "The builder thing?"

"Yes, the builder thing."

Ste pushed him on the bed and pressed his mouth hot against his. The rough and ready builder dominated on top, letting Brendan run his hands up his torso.

**Underwear**

They were both working.

_New Message. Steven: Didn't put a wash on. No pants._

_New Message. Steven: Not wearing any._

_Message Sent._

_ Can't. Working. Some1 will notis._

_Sent._

_ The stockroom is 4 bread. _

_Sent._

_ That were different! U can't just expect me 2 go in there n take a pic._

_Sent._

_ That's even worse than a pichur._

_Sent._

_ Not hygienic is it?_

_Sent._

_ If you want…_

_Sent._

_ Yeah I'll make you a sandwich as well._

_ You can only look though. No touching._

_Sent._

_ Cos it'll show frew the chinos, won't it?_

**Virgin**

When the mood took him, Ste played the vulnerable little virgin. Wide eyed wonder, adoring looks and eager student. He'd pout in role; he'd say, "I've never done this before. Be gentle."

And Brendan would look on him, amused and dark, like he was that fresh unchartered pleasure again. He knew at that word _gentle_, Ste wanted anything but. He was ripe. Untouched. Tight.

Ste gave head until his eyes watered, the novice routine wearing thin. Brendan called him _too good_ for a beginner and he said, coy: "I' been imagining it for ages. Think I need more practice, though."

**Wank**

"Never shy are we, Steven?"

It was first thing on a Sunday, Ste was spread out on his side, facing a dozing Brendan. His subtle, sleepy touching of himself had gained pace. He thought of it as warming up and Brendan had a thing about watching.

Ste snuggled up close, continuing and murmuring. He kissed the corner of Brendan's mouth and groaned, shooting his load over Brendan with a naughty grin.

A sigh. "D'you think about me when you're having one?"

Brendan resisted rolling his eyes when he fished for compliments. "Always."

"Dirty git."

Brendan looked down at Ste's mess.

**X-Rated**

"Not a good angle, that. Me bum looks huge."

Ste sat between Brendan's legs, his bare shoulder kissed. There was an old club CCTV playing on the telly. It was one Brendan had kept a copy of for years.

It had been a fevered half an hour, grubby and secret, over the arm of the office sofa. A theme night raged on outside the door but they were too desperate to care about anyone noticing their disappearance.

Ste remembered going home to Rae, hiding the bite on his inner thigh.

Brendan remembered thinking about the L-word for the first time.

**Young**

"You're only as young as the man you feel."

He'd been mortified when, on her first day of working in his new nightclub, the elderly cleaner, Vi, walked in on him redressing and Ste making a quick exit from the toilets.

Until she'd said that of course. She offered him an unwrapped Black Jack, gave him a wink.

"Happens to the best of us, luv." She'd said. "Well, it did. Don't get pretty young things like that after me anymore! Would you look at the tush on him!"

Brendan mumbled awkwardly and avoided tripping on her bucket as he left.

**Zip**

The shades and the hoodie were a hangover disguise. He'd tried a morning run to clear it but collapsed on the bed when arriving home, sunglasses away and eyes closed. The little'uns were due to arrive that evening for a weekend stay – hangover hell.

Silent, Ste crept into the room, mounted Brendan and pushed a finger to his lips. "I warned you. Devil's juice. And I ain't going without. I got needs. You promised."

He knew what Steven's cure entailed; things were looking up.

Unzipping the hoodie with his teeth, Ste kissed his belly. "Lie back and think of Ireland."


End file.
